With Friends Like These
by Heuristic
Summary: Based on Frenemies then goes AU: Rachel sees Santana's actions over the understudy role and Kurt's unwillingness to choose sides as proof that they were never really her friends and so refuses to be drawn into repeating the mistakes of High School. Kurt calls in Quinn to help them find Rachel because she has always been the expert on predicting Berry behaviour. Is it too late?
1. Chapter 1

_An idea that came to me in my disgruntled state about how Rachel **never** has anyone standing up for her (frenemies episode) - it was meant to be a one-off story but as ever, the plot didn't head the way I intended. So, before it takes over my every waking minute in a bid to finish it, some feedback would be appreciated. Unbetaed_

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Quinn allowed herself a moment to gather her thoughts and to think carefully about what she needed to say. Although recriminations and blame (fairly and squarely apportioned where it was undoubtedly richly deserved) would help vent her internal rage, it wouldn't miraculously help them locate the exact whereabouts and well being of Rachel. Quinn needed to put aside her ire at how long the self-absorbed pair here had waited until calling her. She knew the weekend that she'd set aside for devising a life-affirming moving-forward plan was off the cards the moment she had taken Kurt's call. He had pleaded with her to come to New York and help them find Rachel; his voice growing more panicked and his arguments more garbled while in the background Santana snarled insults that only served to make him yet more incoherent. Quinn had been the calm, mildly amused voice of reason (even as her heart raced). Once she was aware that Rachel's phone was continually unobtainable and - this was what really sounded the alarm bells - had been for three days (Three whole days!) then her voice became clipped and her questions terse and focussed. Kurt's evasive answers to her questions would have been enough to have her heading to New York anyway if she hadn't already been on her way because of her long hidden feelings.

Quinn made a mad-no-expenses-spared dash to the big apple and, as the train hurtled towards its destination, she gazed blankly out of the window. Her emotions cycled through various degrees of rage, hope and despair.

Rage – at Kurt and Santana for being their usual insensitive selves and not realising the gravity of the situation sooner, at Finn for dying just when Rachel had shown signs of moving on (only to be pulled right back by the frozen-in-time 'perfect potential' bestowed on those who died young) and herself for – well, being her. It never occurred to her to direct her rage towards Rachel.

Hope – the optimistic hope that whatever happened in New York was all a big misunderstanding…._but three days_? The huge hope that whatever the circumstances that Rachel was okay – she refrained from praying to God for Rachel's safety because prayer had hardly proved a particularly successful strategy for Quinn previously. She held on to the smallest slither of hope that Rachel was possibly on her way to see her to express a very Berry-like outrage at how she'd been so poorly mistreated by their so-called friends…it was a forlorn and ridiculously unlikely hope, Rachel never made the first move to initiate contact between them since high school graduation.

Finally Quinn had experienced lengthy bouts of various shades of despair – ranging from: _Rachel would finally cut them all off as friends as she should have done years ago_ (mild _just desserts_ despair), through _she'd-never-have-the-chance-to-tell Rachel-how-she-really-felt _(medium _I'll never smile again_ despair) to the total desolation of _no-one would ever see or hear about Rachel ever again_ (extreme _life isn't worth living_ despair) that she instantly became tearful about.

Fortunately it didn't occur to Kurt or Santana to meet her at the train station so she'd had time to pull herself together in the cab journey to their apartment. Kurt's relief at her arrival was balanced out by Santana's surly "don't know why you're here" attitude. Quinn wondered whether Santana's tetchiness might be linked to her not being quite as chilled about their ill-advised one-night stand as Santana had implied. Her bid to quell her craving for an unobtainable loud assertive (yet vulnerable) brunette by settling for an available one had only succeeded in making Quinn hate herself more. Maybe she hadn't been the only casualty of her foolishly optimistic impulses. The thought had barely formed in Quinn's head before Kurt and Santana were busy sniping at each other and a picture of events less edifying than she'd initially been led to believe emerged. It was (as she had suspected) so much more complicated than a series of Rachel-being-Rachel dramatic exits and an attention seeking choice to move out of the apartment. A Fabray hard stare, an arched eyebrow and the _threat of ringing Rachel's dads to report her missing_ later and finally – finally - Kurt and Santana were persuaded to relate their slightly less edited version of events of the past two weeks. Quinn kept her expression blank even as inside she could feel her temper rising.

The latest version of Rachel's disappearance now included a more coherent narrative with a possible, if highly unlikely, trigger for Rachel's behaviour ….namely her and Santana's irreconcilable artistic differences over a Broadway role that Santana had managed to snaffle just by 'turning up on the off chance and sheer talent'. Kurt's uncomfortable squirming and hand wringing was an obvious clue that the whole truth still wasn't yet being voiced but Quinn let it go for the moment. Apparently Rachel's irrational jealousy and 'she-goes-or I-do' ultimatum had led to a change in who lived where; Kurt's neutral peace-keeping path – he'd expected Rachel to 'get over it'- had badly underestimated the depth of Rachel's stubbornness. Rachel had tried to recruit band members to her side in the dispute, she and Santana were left out of the band in order to sort out their differences and then Rachel had stepped away from a sing-off (Santana enjoyed relaying that particular conversation) and then resigned her job at the diner. Quinn silently eyed the pair as she carefully considered what she had been told.

Everyone had experienced a Rachel-Barbra-Berry–Storm-Out (patent pending) over the years and as Rachel matured, she had had refined her technique accordingly (the scattering of the ripped pieces of a photo as she left the flat had been masterful; Quinn had to fight hard not to smile indulgently at the image it invoked in her mind) BUT there was something ominously different about the events at the Spotlight diner. Rachel handing in her apron to her boss as her way of indicating she was quitting was all in character; her resigned silence in doing so, along with her refusal to rise to Santana's challenge to sing Gloria - despite all the subsequent eloquent Berry baiting that Santana indulged in - wasn't.

Quinn would have known straight away that this time things were far more serious; not from the refusal to participate in a diva off (even though that was unheard of) but surely everyone knew that the quieter Rachel was the deeper the hurt went–? And yet, despite cheating boyfriends and repeated perceived rejections by her birth mother, a silent Rachel was unheard of. Quinn hadn't been present to impart all her wisdom from the years she had spent fixated about Rachel; instead Rachel's ex flatmates/band mates/friends had missed the glaringly obvious clues that something was drastically wrong.

Kurt was looking pale and worried; he leant forward, perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, waiting for Quinn to absolve him from all blame. His nervously bouncing knee was an indication that he already knew what the judgement should really be. Quinn considered everything carefully – Kurt had only been trying to keep the peace and persuade Santana and Rachel to resolve their differences through dialogue so why the nerves?

"So beyond Rachel's 'irrational jealousy' about Santana's Broadway role and no mutual friends wanting to take sides, nothing else has been said?" asked Quinn carefully.

"Hobbit can't cope with me achieving in 5 minutes what she's been working for her entire life," preened Santana.

"Kurt?" prompted Quinn.

"I..no,"Kurt replied awkwardly. Whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips with just one glare from Santana. Quinn allowed the silence to draw out - beyond the increase in the frequency of Kurt's jiggling knee nothing had changed. Quinn had hoped that by coming here in person she'd be told the real reason why Rachel had decided to cut her friends out of her life but either there was nothing to tell _or_ the truth would not be painting anyone in a flattering light. The longer it took to extract the truth, the less likely it was she was that she was going to like the sorry tale.

So Quinn duly ran through all the possible options of whom Rachel might turn to. Santana's unhelpful commentary on Rachel's 'lack of friends and her uncanny ability to annoy and irritate anyone – including whoever the patron Saint of patience was - after thirty seconds in her company' proved less helpful than Kurt running through an extensive list of names of everyone he could think of (and had asked) from NYADA (including Brody – a conversation he didn't wish to repeat), the diner and (after a hesitant glance at Santana) Rachel's new would be cast. Rachel had not been seen by any of the people Kurt had approached since she'd walked out of the diner.

"Surely she's been to the rehearsals for Funny Girl – or at least explained her absence," asked Quinn, "Rachel would hardly let anything come between her and the fulfilment of a dearly held lifelong ambition,' Quinn smiled wistfully,' I think we sometimes underestimate just how crucial that role is to Rachel and how much she has sacrificed to gain it – despite all her efforts to tell us over the years."

Quinn's rather weak attempt at humour resulted only in a pale Kurt paling yet further and an already hostile Santana bristling even more.

"It's just a play," spat out Santana (Quinn fought the urge to correct her with "Musical" as an outraged Rachel always insisted), "and the rehearsals are on hold for the moment."

Something weird was going on but Quinn didn't know what it was – maybe it was just her own increasing sense of foreboding about Rachel's safety that was clouding her judgment.

"So neither of you know of any other reason why Rachel would be so upset over 'artistic differences' that she would avoid being found?" Quinn directed the question first to Kurt who immediately dropped his gaze and then to a defiant Santana who merely glowered back.

"It doesn't make sense," Quinn stood up and paced about," We're missing something; Rachel's been cast in her dream role, in her favourite city, having not only gained a place at the most prestigious college in the country for her chosen career – but won the most coveted award there as a freshman…Sorry Santana but this has to be about something more than you picking up a role somewhere however fabulous – because for Rachel, funny girl is the only role…"

Kurt's whimper and Santana's snort of derision were lost on Quinn as she tried to puzzle out what was happening.

"It can't be about Finn's death – well it shouldn't be," Quinn corrected herself," The one time we talked about it Rachel had been sad but talked about the importance of the support of friends…"

Quinn tried to recall the conversation but her desperate need to explain her absence from Finn's McKinley High memorial event to Rachel – without revealing the real reason (unable to bear the thought of seeing Rachel crying and uncertain she'd be able to resist the urge to comfort her) – meant that she hadn't listened with her usual care and attention to _how_ Rachel said things. So those small verbal 'tells' Rachel had when being less than honest escaped the usual Fabray scrutiny – if indeed they'd been present in Rachel's eulogy to healing power of friends.

Quinn grabbed her phone and turned to face a now tearful Kurt – so maybe finally he got just how out of character this behaviour was even for Rachel. Santana was the usual mix of defiance, outrage and studied indifference. Quinn realised there were limited options about what could be going on - either Rachel was incommunicado because she had hidden her from her friends just how badly Finn's death had affected her so she'd concocted all this drama to give her the opportunity to get away from everyone and everything; or Rachel was incommunicado because she couldn't get in touch (kidnap was the worst Quinn could bring herself to consider, an accident resulting in amnesia seemed possibly the best option). Nothing else made any sense – especially with a three day timeframe.

"So who shall I call first," Quinn struggled to keep her voice level, "the police or Rachel's dads?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who reminded me and gently prompted me to update - this is an unbetaed version - I'm posting to stop myself fiddling about with it any longer. **

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_"So who shall I call first," Quinn struggled to keep her voice level, "the police or Rachel's dads?"_

"God Q, drama queen much," scoffed Santana; her attempt to project nonchalance was ruined by her tensely folded arms," you're making lady Hummel sound like the staid voice of reason."

Quinn was too distracted by scrolling through her phone contacts (to see if calling Rachel's dads was even an option) to register the remark or notice the Kurt-Santana glaring and hissing exchange. Of course the number wasn't under anything as straightforward as B for Berry or R for Rachel and there were so many (mainly derogative) alternatives she might have used at high school; she had to resort to scrolling through her contact list alphabetically. Finally, filed under 'Stubbles Hobbit Hovel', was a Lima number. Quinn cringed internally at how hateful her obliviously infatuated younger self had been - all that time wasted, all that expensive therapy she had to undergo to see what had been right in front of her all the time. She needed to edit the contact - her eyes became suddenly teary at the thought that maybe deleting rather than editing would be the required action if something dreadful had happened. Quinn realised belatedly the focus of Santana and Kurt was on her

"Over three days with no contact _whatsoeve_r," Quinn failed to keep the damning judgment out of her tone. She pressed the 'call' button.

"You're out of contact for months on end," retorted Santana," and we don't go ringing your ..." Santana bit off the end of the sentence - there were no doting parents to ring about Quinn, no other relatives who cared, no close friends – she had inadvertently wandered into a conversational minefield and a Fabray explosion was inevitable. Still, a Q rant about Santana's bitchfactor (or insensitivity as Yale Q would call it) would be a welcome distraction from all this digging into precisely why Berry ran - motive was irrelevant, outcome was everything.

"It's Rachel we're talking about, not me," said Quinn with a resigned patience she'd not previously been known to possess, "and you know something's wrong even if you're.. - hello? ...hello?"

Quinn turned away and placed a finger in her ear to allow herself to try and hear what, if anything, was being said on the other end of the phone - a poor connection, the sound of her pulse thundering in her ears and the stream of irritated 'Spanglish' in the background (courtesy of Santana) were hardly making the task any easier.

Suddenly Quinn's phone was wrestled, none too gently, out of her grasp and an obviously irritated Santana was in her personal space taunting her with it. Santana's brief smirk as she glanced at the screen to cut off the call was replaced by a smile that was anything but friendly.

"Easy lesbo Luce, your lady boner for Berry is showing,," goaded Santana checking Q's features for even a hint of embarrassment at the implied crush on the absent diva - nothing, not even a twitch. Santana's disappointment was further enhanced by the total absence of a shocked intake of breath from Kurt at either the accusation or the foolhardiness of making such an accusation.

Quinn suddenly found herself grateful for all that intensive - somewhat expensive - counselling and psychotherapy her mother insisted she had at her father's expense (more for the sake of bankrupting her father than helping her). Her restrictive, proscriptive, highly judgmental and intolerant upbringing crossed with her long repressed desire for a certain rather talented Ms Rachel Barbra Berry...well suffice to say, it hadn't been an easy journey for her but a satisfyingly expensive one as far as her mother was concerned.

Quinn exuded calm as she reached her hand out, "My phone please Santana."

"Berry's probably somewhere out there right now, positively creaming herself at the mere thought of all the drama she's causing," Santana hissed; the conversation wasn't going the way she expected. Distracting Q had never really been difficult...

"No harm in checking with her dads then is there Santana," responded Quinn sweetly.

It was always difficult to discern with Santana whether she was being obstreperous just for the sake of it or whether she was actually hiding something - it was irrelevant either way. If the Berrys knew where Rachel currently was then any unnecessary extra time in Santana's snarky company could be avoided. Quinn's sudden attempted retrieval of her phone was thwarted by Santana skipping irritatingly out of reach.

"My phone please, Santana," Quinn reiterated with a determinedly calm tone and a still steady outstretched hand. Internally her rapidly escalating fear for Rachel's wellbeing had manifest itself as a leaden weight in her chest and each breath felt laboured; she needed to focus on what she could do rather than freeze in terror and dread about what might have happened. Utilising all the calming techniques she'd practised at therapy she looked Santana directly in the eye and continued to repeat her request. Misdirected anger at Santana would only bring short-term relief.

Santana gritted her teeth at the overuse of her name and fought the temptation to hand over the phone - nothing like a calm patient Q to make her feel childish and unreasonable. She resisted the urge to comply and instead moved to relative safety behind the coffee table and focussed on pressing Q's buttons," I'm saving you Tubbers from embarrassing yourself" was her somewhat tame opening gambit. Expensively theraprised Yale Q didn't explode in outrage and looked untroubled forcing Santana to dig deeper into her trove of previously infallible Fabray firework starters.

Q's relaxed demeanour, and unwaveringly reasonable, frequently repeated 'my phone please Santana' were disconcerting; Santana's only solace being that for all that exaggerated Fabray patience at her immaturity, Q was circling the apartment in her wake - so maybe not as relaxed and unbothered as she was trying to portray. Q's strenuously denied, deeply buried, Rachel fixation had long been a source of amusement to Santana (and only recently a source of irritation now that Q was no longer ashamed and humiliated by the mere suggestion) - she just needed to keep metaphorically running a stick along the bars of Q's caged temper.

Quinn's attempts to regain her phone and Santana's feints were accompanied with verbal exchanges reminiscent of high school. Kurt felt frozen by indecision; Santana's increasingly insulting goading and Quinn's patient reiteration of ' my phone please Santana' seemed on the surface a perfectly standard, if somewhat childish, exchange – yet he couldn't shake the feeling that there was an air of menace underneath it all. But who was threatening whom?

Q's change of script - just when Santana was on the verge of crumbling - to a more pleading line about there being 'no harm in checking with the Berrys about Rachel's welfare' had Santana feeling that the argument was shifting in her favour. Q really should know better than trying to appeal to Santana's better nature - a classic sign of weakness on Q's part. Q's 'better safe than sorry' opened a rich seam of humour for Santana - 'a post-Puck motto eh?' she drawled, 'or rather a post Puck-fuck motto,' (Q still couldn't completely disguise her involuntary flinch at the memory). Then, while she was distracted by her own wittiness, Q had pounced; one quick wrist twist later and the phone was back in Q's possession.

"For fuck's sake Q," Santana snapped as she soothed her aching wrist, "So Berry's not been in touch - so the fuck what? Good riddance to all that misplaced sense of entitlement and 'custodian-of-Barbra-songs-in-her-absence' bullshit.. she's always been an attention whore who...

"Santana," Quinn cut off the Santana rant and then added with an exaggerated sigh, "I just want to check with her dads that she's okay..."

Santana managed a bitter humourless laugh, "Oh of course, you've always been all about concern for Rachel," she said pointedly, before deciding there was more mileage in highlighting the numerous contradictions between Q's words and deeds " what was that contact on your phone, stubbles hobbit hovel? Why all this worry about an ugly..."

"Santana!" warned Quinn. It was taking a herculean effort to ignore the adrenalin rush through her system urging her to punch her way to serenity via that smug Latina visage. Quinn took a slow calming breath (and a moment) to compose herself.

"Ladies," squealed Kurt as he hovered nervously on the edge of where the glaring duo circled each other around the sofa. He was prepared to be a bit more assertive now that he felt sure he was out of blood splatter range if things suddenly turned violent - not so much about being a pacifist but more because it was hard enough to be a label queen on a restricted budget without having to factor in unexpected dry cleaning bills.

"Ladies please. We're obviously all a bit overwrought by Rachel's unexplained absence - and saying things we don't mean..."

"Pah," snorted Santana, "Speak for yourself, I meant every single word," She leaned forward to force herself into Quinn's eye line. The only thing in the past that Q had found more irritating than hints at her crushing on Berry was the unwanted invasion of her personal space.

"Good riddance to the awful, ugly, talentless dwarf," Santana spat out Irked by Quinn's impassivity, Santana expanded further, "who can't accept that even with all the Hooker-Clown make-up in the world she'll never, ever, ever make it as a performer - not even as a prostitute - she'd have to pay the punters - well maybe not you, frigid fabr..."

Kurt closed his eyes tightly to avoid any images of the impending violence being permanently burned in his brain. There was an eerily quiet moment before Kurt forced himself to open his eyes – his rather vivid imagination was conjuring up images of the damage that could be wreaked by a silently wielded blade (had there been a knife left on the table?) In fact, the weapon Quinn brandished was far more deadly - complete indifference to Santana's provocations. She had at some point stepped away and turned her back on a clearly non-plussed Santana. Quinn was busy making a call - or at least trying to.

"Okay, so are we all fine now?" Kurt asked hoping his nervousness didn't show.

"I've better things to do than waste my time looking for a no-talent, no-chance, nobody," muttered a petulant Santana as she headed towards the sofa and sat down. She began to casually flick through a magazine, "unlike you two losers."

Quinn's tightened grip on her phone and increasingly furrowed brow suggested her focus was elsewhere other than Santana's weak insults; Kurt however was ready to be baited.

"Fine Santana," snapped Kurt, irritated at Santana and her inability to just be pleasant - or rather not unpleasant - for a while, "I'll help Quinn search for Rachel while you try and squeeze your supersized ego and mega-me-me-me-complex into..."

Kurt's sentence trailed off cut short by the sudden reappearance of Santana's face so close to his that it took a moment for his eyes to bring her features into focus. He managed to swallow the whimper that threatened to escape. His involuntary glance at a distracted Quinn told him instantly there would be no help from that quarter.

"You were saying, Prancy Smurf?" Santana asked as she brushed imaginary lint off his shoulders. The ability to intimidate always gave her a bit of a thrill.

Kurt found himself speechless – the paralysing fear that he thought he'd left behind at high school was back with a vengeance. Whoever had come up with the glib '_sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me_' had clearly never been the wrong side of a Santana Lopez verbal onslaught.

"That's what I thought," Santana added smugly as she lightly tapped his cheek. The pleasure from winding up Kurt paled in comparison to provoking Q but sometimes you just had to take what you could get.

Kurt's voice and courage returned as Santana once again sprawled out on the sofa," Rachel should have slapped you harder, you never were our friend."

Quinn's need to share her rapidly rising concern and frustration at the endless ringing of her never answered call, had been stopped in its tracks as she struggled to process the idea that Rachel had slapped Santana. Rachel had slapped Santana?! All thoughts of checking the contact number she had flew out of her head to be replaced with a deluge of memories of a furious yet stubbornly non-violent Rachel. Many had deserved to be decked/punched/slapped by Rachel's decidedly unmanly hand during the course of high school (herself being high up the list of deserving candidates) yet Rachel's rise-above-it life philosophy had spared them all. Rachel hadn't even slapped Santana on finding out she'd taken Finn's virginity so what on earth had driven her to slap Santana now? Why had neither of these two thought to mention it?

"Oh really," Santana was unable to ignore Kurt's provocation but she flicked through a few pages of whatever magazine she'd picked up just to give the impression of nonchalance, " whereas you have always been such a good friend to Manhands - all that bonding over your shared loser status," flick- flick, "sticking together in the face of public ridicule...oh sorry my mistake - Was 'slutty Barbie' meant as a term of endearment? A make-over to counter the effects of 'a terrible personality' a favour for a friend?"

"That was high school," spluttered Kurt in protest - he didn't need Santana of all people to remind him of how he used the offer of his friendship as a weapon - _if you were my friend you wouldn't stand for class president _was hardly a high point but Rachel just got under his skin with her irritating ability to succeed at anything; the more unlikely the event, the more negative the feedback then the more motivated a determined Rachel would be to succeed. It was an admirable - intensely irritating - quality.

"Listen Geishagay," scoffed Santana," nothing's changed since then, you just wrap up your Berry belittling actions in a thin veneer of supposed friendship - who even made New York a possibility for you, who really got you into NYADA? And your thanks? Constant bitching and undermining the troll..."

"that's ..you're.." Kurt initially floundered before finally rallying a defence, "That's ridiculous," he protested weakly. Maybe he might have- just the once- muttered something a little less than flattering to the NYADA gossip queens - well, maybe twice...

"Really, really?" Santana's disbelief was palpable, "Three words - midnight madness contest." The reward was an instant flush of guilt in Kurt's cheeks.

Any rapidly diminishing inclination Quinn had to step in and try and stop the current disagreement - to focus them on the far more important issue of Rachel's disappearance- died with the mention of yet another incident she was unaware of and Kurt's suddenly shifty demeanour. 'Midnight madness' hardly sounded like a teen-dare craze. Rachel's natural sensibleness would only be trumped by loyalty to friends ...should she check social media?

Kurt's thoughts were racing. Why had he let Brody talk him into 'teaching Rachel a lesson in humility' - the faint hope that just maybe Brody fancied him? Kurt was as much a victim of arch-manipulator Brody as Rachel was. Kurt's reputation had taken a nosedive from the moment he participated in that charade of a contest, while Rachel's faith in Brody (and his 'integrity') soared to new heights - oh the irony when Brody was the one who'd rigged the contest! Kurt had been smarting after Santana and Quinn had talked Rachel out of the topless role in a positively awful, painfully earnest student film that Brody had effortlessly persuaded her into (and she'd easily ignored Kurt's agenda-free advice) and then… well, Santana had been impossible to get rid of ever since. Santana, with her wide range of shit-stirring tactics and deflecting blame techniques...

"That's all so rich coming from you" seethed Kurt, all thoughts of his personal safety suddenly lost to his outrage, "you're nothing but a parasitical user relying on Rachel for her contacts..."

"Oh puh-leeze," Santana interrupted," Like I needed help breaking into the industry."

"Uh-huh," Kurt channelled Mercedes 'tude, "cos that Yeast-I-stat ad is so going to kick off a glittering career. You're a hypocrite, you used Rachel, made her feel guilty about her success - just all take, take, take and never giving.."

"And you'd know all about that." sneered Santana.

Quinn wanted to scream at the pair of them arguing over who was Rachel's least worst 'friend' at a time when Rachel was missing and had been for several days. It sounded pretty much like Quinn would win the least worst friend title just by leaving Rachel alone.

"God, do you really think you're going to keep that role now she's gone? No-one walks in off the street to 'open auditions' just like that - not even the famous face of Yeast-I-Stat," Kurt was giving Santana a master class in the art of sarcasm," So what did you have to do, sleep with the casting director?"

The comment was enough to propel Santana up off the sofa and into Kurt's space

"No wonder you haven't got any roles if that's part of your auditioning process - would you like some pointers on giving head? Even pretty boy Blaine felt the need to go elsewhere.."Santana's ability to provoke and distract had never before caused anyone to go quite that shade of puce.

Quinn was struggling to keep up with the rapid exchange of hostile words eluding to events she was unaware of - was any of this relevant?

"You're such a ..a..prize, bitch," exploded Kurt. A sparkly pink mist of anger had descended and any filter on his words disappeared in the glittery haze of his outrage.

Quinn's decision to step between Kurt and Santana was thwarted by Santana's unrepentant smirk inciting Kurt to add," Rachel was justified to fear being side-lined or horribly disfigured with you as her understudy because.."

Suddenly the escalating war of words around Quinn faded into the background as pieces of the complicated puzzle in her head finally fell into some semblance of order. Santana's role wasn't just any role, it was as understudy to Rachel in a role Rachel had spent her whole life dreaming about and working towards while sacrificing popularity and friendships. The enormity of such a betrayal was proving difficult for Quinn to comprehend.

Santana as 'understudy' or vice captain was enough to make anyone feel threatened and undermined (as Quinn had experienced to her cost) but for Rachel with her vulnerability heightened by her life experiences (and insensitive so-called friends) – Quinn grimaced. Was it enough to make Rachel quit her dream role in Funny Girl? Did that vital piece of information make Rachel's sudden silence more likely to be by choice rather than by a dreadful twist of fate? Has she quit - funny girl? Showbusiness? Life? Quinn wracked her memory to try and recall what had been said earlier. Just knowing if Rachel had walked out on the production would help establish her state of mind and hence possible scenarios for why she had gone off grid for three days and counting. And was the odd behaviour of the flatmates from hell relevant? There was only one way to find out.

Quinn waded into the midst of the still loudly arguing pair and (after a few abortive attempts to quieten them with words alone) she placed a finger on their lips and shhhh'ed them. It wasn't the crashing together of two thick skulls with a resounding crack that Quinn's inner HBIC was howling for, yet it was such an incongruous out-of-character move that both Kurt and Santana were startled into silence. Once Quinn dropped her fingers, Santana was the first to recover the power of speech.

"So Troll's licking her wounds at her dads then?" ventured Santana with an incline of her head to the phone in Q's hand - it seemed the only conclusion to draw from Q's irrational behaviour, "and you're majoring in over-_re_-acting at Yale eh?"

The silence lengthened as Quinn carefully scrutinised Santana - what was really going on here? The need for an answer as to whether Rachel was with her Dads quickly passed. Kurt was feeling light headed until he realised he had been holding his breath. A pin dropping in the tension-laden (but excruciatingly silent) atmosphere would have been a relief - even if it were the pin of a grenade.

"Your Broadway role is as Rachel's understudy?" Quinn asked in a frighteningly calm emotionless voice.

"Yeah, so?" managed Santana, the quaver in her voice undermining her attempt at defiance. The mere hint of a twitch of a Fabray eyebrow told Santana that Quinn was neither fooled nor amused by her efforts.

"And neither of you considered that relevant to why Rachel might have chosen to disappear" Quinn's voice remained neutral as her steely gaze stayed fixed on Santana. Wisely Santana chose silence as the least worst option.

"What else have you two _forgotten_ to tell me?" Quinn inquired – the disdain dripping from the word 'forgotten' had Kurt squirming with the need to make amends. He barely waited for Quinn to finish her question before launching into his recollection of recent events. He was in full self-justifying flow - his extended almost obsequious explanation of quite how Santana had poorly used and abused Rachel's trust (her sneaky audition being only one of a long catalogue of offences) and how he had tried to steer a neutral peace keeping path - despite being equally poorly used by Santana - he paused to check the glaring pair were still listening; it was difficult to tell.

"In fact I've no idea why Santana came to stay here if she loathes me … and Rachel quite so much.." added Kurt.

Quinn debated briefly the wisdom of correcting Kurt on his assumption of victimhood with her own theory about Santana's motivations – envy of Rachel; how Santana had always had an unhealthy irrational jealousy for all the things Rachel had or looked about to have. Hidden behind a continual barrage of derision and disdain, Santana had in fact been Finn's first sexual partner, joined Glee, competed for the lead female vocalist spot - not to mention all the Brody shenanigans (so much more to it than Rachel knew), envied the NY lifestyle to the point of quitting a scholarship to college and becoming an uninvited squatter here…well the lengths she would have gone to for the Broadway role shouldn't have surprised anyone. There was plenty of time for a post mortem on Santana's motivations later.

"Let's focus on the task at hand," emphasised Quinn over the hostility Santana was directing at Kurt through gestures, body language and muttered obscure Spanish insults her grandfather had taught her.

"Anything you'd like to add that'll help us find Rachel?" Quinn gave Santana the opportunity to contribute her version of events.

" I don't have to answer to you," growled Santana," Berry's an adult. I'm not being made a scapegoat..."

"This isn't about you or me, this is about Rachel being missing for over three days," Quinn managed to force out between her gritted teeth. It was becoming more of a struggle to keep her temper in check.

Santana's snort of derision was designed to irritate, her casual," it's not really been three days" was deliberately provocative. She moved to relax on the couch and began again to casually flick through the same magazine as before.

Kurt's sudden lunge for Santana as he shouted his outrage at her knowing how worried he'd been and how dare she! was halted by Quinn grabbing his arm. The rate of Santana's page turning didn't alter - an effect ruined by the apparently engrossing magazine being held upside down - as she idly enquired why she needed to tell Kurt anything. Kurt's enraged shrill threat about her answering to the 'FBIs missing persons unit if she wouldn't answer his questions' only caused Santana amusement - "Oh Kurt, 'Without A Trace' isn't real" her condescending tone meant Quinn needed to tighten her hold on an even angrier Kurt.

"Kurt, don't let her provoke you, she.." Quinn started to explain only for Santana to cut across her

"So Trollface and I had a heart-to-heart the day after her rather pathetic storm out - so what?"

"It's probably not even true," murmured Quinn in Kurt's ear preventing him from making an ill-advised attempt at lopezicide. With slow deep breaths, a sense of calm was beginning to return to him.

"Even deluded Berry deserved to know Finn never cared for her - how could he once he'd sampled this hotness? He came to New York to fight Brody over me... "

Quinn's tightened grip on Kurt's arm was now about her stopping herself from unleashing all her pent-up anger at Santana – like some kind of evil Tinkerbell from a parallel universe, Santana needed anger and conflict to live.

"Ignore her,' hissed Quinn so quietly that Kurt wasn't even sure the instructions were for him but then the pain from Quinn's vice like grip on his arm was disrupting his ability to think. His whimper of pain brought Quinn's attention to him.

"Can you call Rachel's home number on your phone – I'm not sure the contact I have is correct," Quinn's request was just audible over the Santana's increasingly provocative statements. Kurt found his phone - Rachel's home number was the same as Quinn had and when he rang it no one answered. A vague memory teased his brain - had Rachel mentioned something sometime recently about her dads travelling plans? He hadn't really been paying attention...A quick glance at Quinn's studiously impassive face suggested now wasn't the time to share that thought.

Santana tossed the magazine aside once she realised she was deliberately being ignored. She stood and stretched.

"All this talk of my sexual awesomeness is making me horny," Santana drawled - yep, being ignored was definitely the order of the day. There was no fun to be had here so a tactful retreat hidden under the guise of a triumphant exit was needed.," I think I'll go and stay with Dani for a few days - to help relieve the tension..."

Kurt cut off whatever he was going to say after a ignore-her-or-die glare from Quinn. Santana's carefree whistling as she noisily packed a weekend bag was grating at best - the significance of the choice of tune wasn't lost on Quinn.

Finally a far too carefree Santana burst into the communal space with a pink-wheeled suitcase (decorated with gold stars) being dragged behind her. Her jaunty walk to the front door was hampered by the unco-operative case clipping her heels as she moved.

"Isn't ," Kurt began but the "that the case Rachel thought she'd lost?" remained unspoken as Quinn glared at him again. Ignoring Santana was just so hard.

Santana's abrupt halt and spin to face them both as she stood by the now open door had Kurt suddenly fearful again.

"Actually Q I do have something to add," it was difficult to judge from Santana's expression just what she might say," All the things I shared with Berry just rolled off that Quasimodo back - except - well.." Kurt mistook the glint in Santana's eye as the hint of a tear; Quinn identified it correctly as a malicious triumphant sparkle," the thing that really got to her - the only thing over all these years- was when I told her about me and you fucking our way through the night after Schue's non wedding."

Santana had finally elicited the shocked gasp from Kurt she'd been angling for earlier but the momentary glimpse of horror on Quinn's face was her true reward. It no longer mattered that she couldn't slam the sliding door behind her.


End file.
